IN MY BONES
by Jean-Huh-Kirschnickerdoodle
Summary: Two years after the attack on Trost, Jean finds himself starting to see others for the first time since Marco's death. But the fear and guilt surrounding Marco's death has never left him, now projecting onto those around him. Perhaps tranquility is closer than he ever thought possible, something he can find in life and not by following his love into the afterlife. EVENTUAL SMUT.
1. GUILTY BY ASSOCIATION

CHAPTER ONE

Dust puffed from the ground as Jean hopped down from the back of his horse, the thud of his boots against the stone clear in the near-empty courtyard. With a battle-roughened hand he gently patted the animal's rump, turning at the sound of footsteps and the shifting of the reigns.

"Let the new recruits take care of cleaning up the horses, Kirschtein. Worry about yourself, you're… filthy…" Squad Captain Levi looked down at his subordinate with an obvious look of disdain, even though he wasn't much better off.

Jean couldn't really blame him, though. Looking down at himself he could see that the entirety of his Recon Corps uniform was so caked with dirt that even the whitest pieces had turned a lovely shade of brown.

"Right. Thanks." His response was tired and his movements sluggish as he nodded and walked toward the entrance of the Recon Corps Headquarters. His steps were slow, feet seeming to drag as he walked the halls of the old stone building, nodding toward a group of his fellow recruits.

"Jean..? Are you okay?" He knew who the concerned voice belonged to immediately, one of the recruits from his own squadron. Those blue eyes were always so full of kindness, and behind them the mind of a calculating genius.

"Huh? Oh, Armin. Hey, yeah.. just a hard patrol today is all." Jean ran his hand through his two-toned hair, dirt puffing from the slightly shaggy lengths.

"Looks like it. Actually, could you wait here for a moment?" Before Jean could decline Armin rushed through the doorway behind him and disappeared.

Jean let out a small sigh, too exhausted to be irritated as he waited for the blond to return. Everyone had changed to some extent in the two years since they graduated, but of everyone Armin surely had changed the most, and at times it still took Jean by surprise.

Blue eyes smiled up at him when Armin returned, his hand out, a small canvas bag dangling from it. "Add this to your bath." Jean opened his mouth to protest but Armin continued before he could say anything. "Yes, _bath._ Sorry to say this, Jean, but you look like you're about to fall over. This will help your body recover. And just leave your gear in the bathing quarters, I'll send someone to fetch them later."

Jean tensed as Armin grabbed hold of his hand and forced the bag into it, but sighed in defeat. "Well, shit, I must look really bad if even _you're _being forceful." A small smile graced his lips before he excused himself to the bathing quarters.

As soon as he entered the room, he immediately felt overcome with exhaustion. Barely able to think, Jean turned on a couple large oil lamps near to the entrance, a dim glow spreading over the dark stone room. Shuffling to the edge of the tub, sunken into the stone floor, he pulled the rope that caused hot water to pour from an overhead pipe, steam wafting up into his face.

With shaking hands, Jean fumbled with the buckles of the straps on his gear, dropping the leather straps to the ground and sliding his once white pants and shirt to the ground, leaving them next to the boots he had already removed.

The room was growing humid, air heavy with the thickening steam, and in his exhaustion Jean found it stifling. He could tell from the sound of the water that the bath was almost full, and taking the few steps to shuffle to the nearby window he pushed it open, bright daylight flooding into the room and over his naked body, red marks marring his body where the gear's straps pressed.

The cool, crisp air of late autumn was refreshing, but even so it seemed to sting his lungs. But that was a physical pain, pain that Jean knew how to deal with. Knew would abate if he removed the source of the pain. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead down into the high stone window sill, hand unconsciously rising to the scars on his arms, scars from when he and the others burst through the windows of the supply tower.

"That was the last day that I saw your smiling face…" Jean's furrowed brows relaxed as the room filled with silence, the water shutting off on its own, a safety measure put in after some of the recruits flooded their bathing quarters.

Lowering himself slowly into the bath, Jean submerged his entire body into the steaming water, holding himself inside the stifling heat for as long as he could hold his breath, almost gasping as he finally came up for air. Pushing his hair back, water ran down his face in rivulets, leaving smalls streaks through the dirt that lingered on his skin.

Almost as an afterthought he grabbed Armin's canvas bag, pouring the contents thoughtlessly into the water. It had a murky effect, but was not unpleasant. The scents of lavender, vanilla, and a touch of cinnamon, floated up from the water's surface, and he watched as large chunks of salt dissolved at the bottom of the bath.

Sinking into the tub up to his lips, Jean huffed, breath rippling the surface. _Salt is so difficult to come by.. What is Armin thinking using it on me instead of someone who needs the bath salts._ Was he sulking?

Mindlessly reaching toward his dirty clothes, Jean dug into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small glass vile, holding it up to the light as he rest his head on the edge of the tub. Inside it was a single heat-stained shard of bone.

"It's been two years tomorrow.." Jean sighed, closing his hand around the vile and holding it to his forehead, brows furrowed as he fought the rising memories. "Two years.." His eyes burned as he closed them tight, clenching his jaw as he refused to cry now.

Calmed, he slowly opened his eyes, the sun's bright light deepening as it lowered in the sky. "So it's that time already?" Dipping one last time into the tub, rinsing the rest of the dirt from his body, Jean leveraged himself up onto the cold stone floor, shivering as the cool air hit his moist body. Remembering what Armin had told him about his gear, he simply grabbed one of the folded towels from the shelf, dabbing his face and ruffling his hair with it before wrapping it low around his hips.

Walking past the mirror, Jean picked up the small vile which rarely left his possession. He never bothered looking in the mirrors, knowing that he had barely changed in the past two years. He'd gotten a little taller, hair a tad longer, and gained some new scars. Of all the recruits, Jean had probably changed the _least_, having been mostly physically matured by the time he became a soldier.

Poking his head out through the doorway, Jean checked the hallway to make sure it was empty. He didn't really feel like running into Mikasa or Christa in his current state, not today. Today he was just exhausted, though he had to admit as he shuffled a few doors down that his body did seem to feel rejuvenated. He would have to remember to thank Armin later.

Shutting the door behind him, Jean slid the small metal lock into place. It wasn't something that would prevent anyone who really wanted in from entering, but it would keep people from bursting in and disturbing him without warning.

The room was pitch, but fairly empty. 'No use in collecting things when you're gonna die young, anyway.' Sometimes his cynicism even surprised Jean, but at least right now it meant he could move to the table and light the oil lamp without mishap. Dropping his towel to the floor, something he knew would earn him a verbal lashing if his captain saw, he pulled on a pair of clean, black boxer-briefs before settling onto the mattress.

Digging into the nightstand, he pulled out a sketchbook and the pointed sticks of graphite – both had been gifts from Armin not long after Marco had died. Leaning against the wall, he stifled a shiver as a chill ran down his spine, and opened to the next available page.

Letting out a sigh, the room filled with utter silence but for the scritch of the graphite to paper, the same face he always drew slowly appearing on the page before him. Free time was rare, but when he had it he always found himself closed in his room, those deep eyes, dark hair, and freckled cheeks marking the pages, lips that he could still feel on his own smiling up at him.

Jean's breath seemed to stop, caught behind the lump in his throat, as his fingers trailed over the portrait's surface, tips stained with the silver sheen of graphite. Running his fingers back through his wet hair, he held his head in his hands, staring but not really looking at the picture before him. "I'm starting to forget the sound of your voice, Marco. I want to hear you. I miss you…"

Curling up on the surface of his bed, he laid his head on the cool surface of his pillow, finding it hard to relax as exhaustion pulled him under. He felt as if he had only been asleep seconds before hearing a familiar voice echoing in his mind.

"Jean? Jean? Come on, Jean."

Groaning protest, Jean opened his eyes only to be blinded by a bright white light. The sun? His room didn't even have a window. Slowly, cautiously opening his eyes he found himself looking directly into deep, warm brown eyes that he thought he'd never see again. Eyes filled with kindness and smiles, and irrefutably full of _life_.

Jean's eyes widened in disbelief as he slowly lifted his head to look at a face that at times he wished he could forget. "M-marco..? You… you're alive?"

The freckled-faced teen laughed, the kind of laugh that warms you from the inside, placing a warm hand on top of Jean's head. "What? Of course I'm alive! Were you having weird dreams again?"

Jean could feel his eyes warming as tears burned behind them, almost bouncing with excitement he nearly jumped onto his companion, shifting between kissing those soft, pink lips that he missed so dearly, and laughing through tears, face never pulling back, hands holding desperately to the face below him.

"Jean, what's with you today?" Marco's words came out through laughter, and Jean found that he couldn't stop smiling, and kissing him all over his face. It's true that they had been together since midway through their training, and though they never fought to keep their relationship hidden, they weren't overly public with their affections either.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. It's just.. I thought you were dead. I thought I'd lost you forever…" Jean's voice dropped as he laid his head on Marco's chest, listening to sound of blood rushing through the ever-beating heart.

Marco smiled, bringing a hand up to run gentle fingers through the soft, two-toned hair. "It was just a dream, Jean. I'm still here, we're not finished. Afterall, we're joining the Recon Corps right? Can't let 'that douchebag, Eren beat us by going to the outer world first' right?"

Jean chuckled, chest vibrating against Marco's, sitting up to look into those dark brown eyes again. Leaning down, Jean place small, soft kisses on those lips he had never forgotten, felt his chest tighten as a hand held the back of his head, keeping him close and deepening the kiss. He felt a soft tongue against his lips, and gladly allowed it entrance, savoring the familiar taste.

Yes, _taste_. No matter what he remembered, no matter the sleepless nights, no matter how many times he had seen that corpse behind his closed lids, he couldn't deny his senses. They were overwhelmed by everything Marco. His earthy smell, the heat that lingered on Jean's skin everywhere he touched, the little sounds he made when they kissed, even the way his mouth _tasted_.

Marco was here, and he was _real_.

Tears burned behind closed eyes as Jean desperately held onto the sides of Marco's face, straddling his body and sitting on his hips, kissing him hard and deep, gladly losing himself in the intimacy. Gasping as he broke the kiss, Jean placed his forehead gently to Marco's lips, sliding his left hand down to feel the heart in his chest, making sure it was still beating.

"I need you more than anything, Marco. Don't ever leave me."

"But you left me first, Jean." Jean's body tensed as he heard a familiar tolling of the death bell, a chill rushing over his body.

Slowly lifting his body, he looked down at Marco's form, blood draining from his face as he saw the half-eaten body below his own. Instinctively back-pedaling off the body, his throat tightened and his stomach threatened to empty itself. Feeling his back press against something hard and warm, Jean closed his eyes, a calm spreading over him at the familiar voice.

"Jean? You okay?" A voice that always seemed kind, in a way all its own.

"A-armin?" Jean tilted his head back to look up to see the blond as he knew him. Running his hands through his hair, he looked back to where he and Marco had been only moments earlier, finding it… empty.

"He's gone, Jean. Marco is dead, and he's never coming back. He's dead because you left him…"

Jean felt the bile rising in his throat, brow furrowed and body tense as he slowly rose to his feet, turning toward the usually gentle genius. His mind was blanking and his body hot as the incomparable pain and guilt overwhelmed his being. "What's wrong with you, Armin? This isn't like you—"

Jean felt his throat close around his words, paralyzed from what he was seeing before him. Before him stood Armin— genius, thoughtful, calculating, always-come-up-with-a-plan-to-save-your-ass-Armin. Face half eaten, lips pulled away from his teeth, blood and entrails dripping from the half of his torso that was torn away. The same wounds he had seen on Marco every night for the past two years. Wounds he could never forget.

"Are you going to leave me, too, Jean? Just like you did Marco? Are you going to _kill_ me next?"

The deafening crack of the sound barrier breaking, the sound that was always followed by a breach of the wall, thundered through the air, and Jean found himself gasping for air and staring wild-eyed at the familiar stone ceiling of his quarters, tears running down the sides of his face and onto his pillow.


	2. TAKES A FUNERAL

CHAPTER TWO :: TAKES A FUNERAL

Jean lie still, mind numb but body on fire, silent tears streaming down his face and into his hair. His chest burned, an unfathomable pressure pushing down on his lungs, and even the shallowest of breaths were difficult to swallow. He clenched his eyes shut tight, doing his best to just focus on taking air into his lungs.

Slowly opening his eyes to the nothingness of his quarters, he ran a hand over his face, skin taut from dried tears. Pushing himself up onto his elbow, Jean reached over and lit the oil lamp on the table, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the new light, refusing to look away from the flame. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at his feet, trying to gather the strength to force himself to stand. Now that he had regained his ability to breathe, he found his body to be exhausted.

With a small huff he pushed to his feet, crossing the cold stone floor to the door, flipping the lock and pulling it open with a creak. Much to his surprise, he found the hallway dark but for a few strategically placed wall lamps. He had expected to see light coming in through the windows at either of the hall, and maybe see a few people wandering the corridor. But there was no such thing, the windows showing nothing but glimpses of the courtyard and training grounds when the clouds unshielded the moon.

"Fuck…" He kept his voice hushed as he ran a hand over his tired face, returning to his room and closing the door once more. Climbing onto his bed, he slid face first into the mattress, closing his eyes into his cold, damp pillow case, silently praying to whatever god or gods may or may not be out there to help him peacefully sleep.

"Oh right. The gods hate me." With a frustrated sigh, Jean pulled his knees under his chest before sitting up onto his feet and looking around his room and knowing there was no way in hell he was going to be able to fall back asleep. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn't know if he _wanted_ to, and risk returning to the world that had put him in this situation in the first place.

It was in times like this that he always realized just how few things he had gathered in the two years since he joined the Recon Corps. No one had a substantial amount of free time, but he was the only one who refused to find _something_ to make his quarters his own. Armin had his books and medicinal stuffs. Sasha and Connie both had gathered memorabilia from their hometowns. Eren had some weaponry that Levi had given him, among other things that the two preferred keep out of sight even if everyone did know what was going on between them. Even Mikasa had taken to displaying the embroidery she did in her free time, something she had learned from her mother.

But Jean? Jean had nothing. He wanted nothing. The few times people had tried to force an interest on him, his blood boiled and usually the only thing that kept him from giving what was, in his opinion, a well-deserved beating was that Armin would usually step in and calmly redirect whoever it was elsewhere.

_Armin…_ It was Armin who gave him the sketchbook and graphite too, he remembered, knowing that the only thing Jean had any interest in having was Marco. With a defeated sigh he reached over onto the table, grabbing his drawing equipment, and turning the knob on the lamp to make it burn brighter.

Shoving his pillows up into the corner where the walls met each other, he scooted himself back into the nook, propping the pad on his knees and taking a deep breath as he made the first careful marks on the paper. It took only moments before he lost focus on what he was doing, letting his mind and hand create what they wanted, dazed from the hellish nightmare that had roused him.

The scritch-scritch of graphite to paper was soothing, the motions calming, and Jean didn't give it second thought as those lines began to come together and put his thoughts into visible form. He let his mind wander, assuming that, like always, that freckled face would appear on the page before him, smiling up at him encouragingly. Because it was always Marco that was on his mind when he let himself just _be_.

It wasn't until Jean heard voices in the hallway that he had realized hours had passed. Clasping a wrist he lifted his arms above his head, stretched his very stiff back and looked over to see the oil lamp had almost burned through its reserves of fuel. Wiping his fingers on his still-damp towel from the night before, he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to take small comfort in the closest he ever got to getting his Marco back.

What he saw on that paper made his stomach turn, throat clenched tight, heat rushing uncomfortably through his body. He was now thankful he hadn't felt up to eating when he first woke, because surely it would be finding its way onto his floor about now. The page wasn't filled with pictures of the late Marco Bodt, for the first time another face graced the pages of his sketchbook.

_Armin… but.. why…_?

It was all Armin Arlert, there was no mistaking. It was the kind genius, the one who always kept his hair pulled back from his face to make himself appear more masculine, whose blue eyes were always calculating, whom would spend night after night going through Hanji's research, all an effort to prove his worth as a soldier.

The fact that he had drawn someone besides Marco was surprising in and of itself, but as he examined the piece a realization dawned on him that made him feel like retching all over again. He had drawn several pictures of Armin, but all of them had one thing in common. None of them had the right portion of their face and body. Either from the angle, shading, hair and clothes, or the blatantly obvious centerpiece which had covered the would-be wounds with flowers, every piece mimicked his nightmare.

Throwing the book away from him as if it were on fire, he ran his hands through his hair, holding his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. His breathing was labored, and he felt like his was going to explode. He couldn't just stay here. He had to get up and do _something_, go _somewhere._ Without even thinking he pulled on a clean uniform and grabbed the small vial from the nightstand before rushing out into the hallway.

Quick steps took him into Captain Levi's office, entering after a quick, almost frantic knock. He was taken aback to see both Hanji and Armin in the office so early, the sight of the latter making his blood feel like it had turned to sludge. When he said nothing, just stood there looking dumfounded, Levi cleared his throat.

"What is it, Kirschtein? Up early for a training day, aren't you?"

Jean licked his dry lips, finding the act of forming words more difficult than it had ever been before. "Actually sir, um, I'd like to request a day of leave..?"

Levi stood up straight, unsure he heard correctly, for Jean Kirschtein never took a day off. Hanji snorted, waving a hand almost dismissively at the request.

"It's practically an off-day as it is. Your patrol wasn't _that_ exciting yesterday, no way you act—" Hanji stopped mid-sentence as Armin laid a hand on her shoulder, she and Levi both watching him as he barely shook his head.

"I think a leave of absence is a good idea, sir. Jean was in pretty rough shape yesterday when he returned, and I was already debating suggesting he take the day to rest. I'm just glad to see he had the good sense to request it on his own." Armin flashed a small smile, but his calculating eyes were desperately trying to convey to Levi what words he wasn't saying.

"Granted." Levi's words surprised Jean, if he was honest with himself. "Take the day to do whatever you need to recover." His voice made his words seem harsh, but Jean was thankful for them either way. With a quick salute, he turned and left the office.

Clearly having an objective in mind, he headed down the hall past his room and toward the rear exit of the building. The air hit him with such force that it took a moment to catch his breath, the autumn chill carrying a nasty bite that signaled a nearing winter. Chilly as it may have been, it was nothing his uniform couldn't endure, and he was thankful that it wasn't stifling as it was only weeks earlier.

It wasn't long before he found himself in a secluded part of the grounds surrounding the headquarters, staring down at a stone that stood no higher than his knee. There were a few similar stones nearby, but this was the one he cared about, and Jean was the only one who visited regularly anyway.

Most of the stone markers had been placed within the district walls, even going as far as constructing a memorial stone for all those who had lost their lives in the battle of Trost. But Armin had petitioned to have stones put here to represent those who only had survivors in the Recon Corps.

"Hey Marco…" Jean's words were quiet, afraid if he spoke any louder his voice would waver. "Sorry it's been a bit since we last talked. That Captain Levi can be a real hardass, sometimes. He's had me busy on patrol or training like mad lately. I think maybe he's preparing me for something. I dunno, really."

Taking a deep, shaky breath he crouched in front of the headstone, running gentle fingers over the name. In places, the letters had begun to erode, the places that he clearly touched each and every time he visited. Almost subconsciously he reached into his pocket and pulled out the vial, carefully dumping its contents into his palm.

"Marco I… I don't know what's going on, anymore." Closing his fingers around the bone, he held his hand over his face, eyes burning as tears began to build within. "I keep having these dreams, y'know. Dreams about you, about you being back. Like always. I know that they're just dreams, no matter how much I wish I could stay there." He took a hard breath, air shuddering within his chest.

"But this time… this time it was different. Armin was there. Armin was there, and… and he was just like you! He was dead. Eaten." Jean forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, and whispered, "He was dead because of me."

Shifting his weight back, Jean sat on the ground, legs crossed comfortably in front of him, and he stared down at the bone in the hands resting in his lap. "But you know, that's not what really got to me. It was how I felt… the pain that racked my body when I woke up, how sickened I was when I thought of it. Maybe it's heartless, but after two years of losing friends, I guess I've kinda adjusted, you know?"

He furrowed his sharp brows, closing his eyes tightly and swallowing hard before continuing to speak into the nothingness. "It's been two years, today, since I lost you. You, who were the most important person in my world. The one who made me smile, who made me _feel_, and who kept my dumb ass from getting into too much trouble." He chuckled through his tears.

"For two years, it's only ever been you I thought of, and it's only ever been your face that made its way into my sketchbook. But today… today, it was Armin. It was Armin there instead of you. And that _terrifies_ me." A tight throat forced him to whisper the word.

"Marco, I'm scared… Scared of forgetting you. Scared that you're going to be replaced. And I just can't. I can't _not_ have you, Marco. _You're my heart._"

Jean took a deep, shuddering breath as tears streamed down his face. "I can't lose you, again, Marco!" Those were the last words Jean spoke at the grave that day, his body racked with overwhelming pain, sobbing until he just simply couldn't produce anymore tears.

* * *

By the time Jean had returned to headquarters the sun had almost hidden itself behind the far walls, twilight quickly overtaking the sky. As he walked through the corridor, crowded with people leaving the mess hall, he could feel people looking at him and hear them talking in hushed voices.

He may not have been able to make out the words coming from their lips, but he didn't have to in order to know what they were saying. Jean knew exactly what kind of state he was in, and how awful he looked. He could feel how swollen and bloodshot his eyes were, could see his nose was red and feel that both it and his cheeks were raw from being wiped with the rough canvas of his jacket sleeve.

Irritated by the whispering he ducked into one of the private bathrooms, locking the door behind him and leaning back against it, thankful for the sound-proof nature of the building. Splashing icy water over his face, he washed the dirt and salt from his tear-streaked cheeks before heading back into the fray. By the time he made it to his personal quarters, he was so angry that all he wanted to do was take it out on every person who was giving him not-so-discreet glances.

And yet, he found that anger dissipated almost instantly when he opened the door to his chambers to find it wasn't empty. Standing at his nightstand was Armin, and judging by the strong smell of sulfur from a recently lit match, he hadn't been there long.

"What are you doing in my room?" He didn't mean to sound snippy, but did despite himself.

"I just thought you'd probably be in rough shape, and thought I'd give you something to help you sleep. Please, get into bed."

Armin's voice was calming, and yet somehow authoritative. He had quickly become the resident healer, with a natural mind for best combining the effects of natural herbs and minerals to restore the body. As such, Jean had quickly learned to listen to him when he told him to do something medically relevant.

Without so much as a sigh he stripped down to his underwear, finding himself relieved that Armin was occupied grinding herbs. He quickly climbed into bed, pulled the covers over his waist, resting his head on his pillow and watching Armin at work.

It still amazed him how much the blond had grown. He had gained a few inches in height, and though he was still rather lean, he had trained hard to develop strength in that lithe body of his. His hair, shimmering gold in the firelight, drifted above his shoulder, his bangs parting gracefully around his blue eyes, which seemed to shine with a slight smile as he carefully poured the crushed herbs into a thin cloth bag.

Watching him at work, Jean realized how different he looked now than when he saw him from day to day. Normally, Armin would have his hair pulled back, his eyes ever-calculating, but now, here, there was something… soft about him. As if he had dropped his guard. Jean couldn't help but find himself thinking he was beautiful.

"It's been two years today, hasn't it, Jean?" Armin's words were quiet, as he rarely yelled unnecessarily, but they were still enough to disturb the comfortable almost-silence.

"Yeah…" He barely forced the one word out, and at that it was almost inaudible.

Armin smiled, more to himself than Jean, as he poured steaming water over the bag of herbs, steeping it and watching the water darken. "You've been so strong, Jean. You've always hidden just how much you're hurting, and you've been strong for everyone else. Because you're a leader, and you know what it's like to be in the position of the weak."

Jean felt his throat tighten as he listened to Armin speaking words that were far too similar to Marco's for comfort. "Yeah, I guess. It's just… there's nothing I can do about it anyway."

Armin took the bag out of the cup and set it on the tray he brought with him, leaving the steaming beverage on the nightstand. "I know it's hard, but I'm proud of you. But now, you just need to rest. Drink this; you'll be out within a half hour. I've already spoken to the Captain, he's extended your leave into tomorrow."

Jean was stunned, but before he gathered his mind enough to protest, Armin had bid him goodnight and closed the door behind him. With a little effort he brought the mug carefully toward him, sniffing the mysterious substance. Chamomile, with hints of vanilla and spearment. Crinkling his nose, Jean took a few gulps of the liquid, heat burning his throat and the inside of his chest on the way down. It was the most that he could force himself to stomach, but knew anything Armin gave him would be plenty potent.

Snuffing the flame in the lamp, Jean laid his head on a cool spot on the pillow, closing his eyes and trying to steady his breathing. And yet he couldn't. His heart was beating, his body was hot, and he felt an odd…unsettled feeling in his core. It was a feeling he knew well, one that usually came about when he drew more… intimate pictures of his late lover. It was a feeling that he had always taken care of on his own.

It was inconvenient. And yet, he knew that Armin would have seen to it that he not be disturbed. After two years of this, it was just something he did out of necessity. Sliding his hands under the sheets he pushed his underwear past his hips, pushing them off with his feet, not wanting to mess in them.

Necessity or not, he still couldn't help but think of Marco when it came to moments like this. That smooth voice chuckling against his ear, nibbling the lobe gently, kissing his neck, sinking his teeth into the nape and leaving his mark. Slowly running a hand over his sculpted torso, he slowed his decent, remembering the way Marco would trace his pelvic bones, a twinge of pleasure jolting through his abdomen.

Dipping his hand lower, Jean wrapped his slightly rough hands around his hardened erection, remembering the way Marco would slowly stroke up, making him gasp and squirm in his hand. His breathing grew heavier, body hotter, and to his surprise he found his entrance was twitching, seeking attention it had rarely sought for two years.

Bringing his free hand to his lips, he dipped his fingers into his mouth, licking them until they were thoroughly wetted. Hesitantly he pressed one to his hole, carefully pushing in the tip, and biting his lip at the twinge of pain. Jean felt himself relax around his finger as he remembered how good it always felt when Marco was deep inside him, filling him.

Stretching, he pushed his finger in further, barely rubbing against the spot that made him let out a muffled moan, and he couldn't help thinking he wished he had longer fingers. _Like Armin._ And with that small thought he couldn't help bring up the image of brilliant man. Couldn't help wonder what it would feel like to have his long, delicate fingers wrapped around his dick, or pressing inside him, while gentle, warm lips kissed his neck, that golden hair tickling over his neck.

Before Jean had even realized it, he was panting into the pillow, thrusting his finger deep inside to rub against his sweet spot, forcing out strangled moans as he rapidly pumped his shaft, thumb rubbing over the tip. He felt his body tense, felt himself clench around his finger, dick throbbing as the thick, hot liquid leaked into the hand closed around it.

Breathing heavily, he carefully pulled his finger out, and stared at the palmful of cum, even if he couldn't see it in the dark. His hands shook as he wiped them clean, but not from exertion.

_I… I came… to thoughts of Armin…_?


	3. UNTIL NOW

Groggily, Jean opened his eyes to find himself in his room, and feeling generally rested. He was genuinely thankful for Armin's interference, and his sleepy tea, as he realized that for the first time in two years he'd had a quiet night's sleep. No dreams, good or bad. His body felt heavy, and he wondered for just how long he had been asleep. If the bustling in the hallway and the light peeking under his door were any sign, it was well past noon and the corps were returning from lunch in the mess hall.

Pushing himself up, he kicked his legs over the side of his bed, running his fingers through his hair and dropping his head into his hands with a sigh. He was fully naked, and it didn't take long for him to remember exactly _why_ he had fallen asleep that way the night before.

"Shit."

He didn't have much time to berate himself before his stomach started talking to him and he found himself with the overwhelming need to satiate it… and to bathe. Feeling around in the near-pitch darkness, his fingers grasped the cotton of his underwear, and he slid them and a pair of loose trousers over his hips.

He didn't even bother with a shirt as he pulled open his door, half-naked bodies being common among the training recruits. He was surprised to hear a clank against the wood as he pulled the door open, looking down he noticed a small canvas bag with a key and small wooden plaque attached to it.

_A key to one of the private baths? And…_ grabbing the bag he felt the familiar granular texture within the bag, and recognized it for the mineral it was. _Bath salts? Armin…_

He couldn't deny the flip that his stomach did as he thought of the blond, but refused to accept the feeling as anything but his gnawing hunger. Holding the bag firmly in one hand, the key in the other, Jean made his way in the direction opposite of the baths the recruits normally used, to the baths reserved for those who needed special treatment, usually for injuries.

The private baths were smaller, but also more secluded and certainly had a more comforting feel to them. The floor was covered in wooden planks, which naturally held heat, and the windows which allowed light into the room were stained orange, leaving the room bathed in the aura of warmth.

Comforting as the room may have been in its seclusion, it was also obvious in its disuse. It was clean, of course, but empty. There were no shelves for hygiene products, no racks for towels, no hampers for dirty laundry. As he looked around he noticed only a lone, full-length mirror, a single folded towel, and a tray… of food?

He let out a sigh, feeling himself being defeated as he examined the tray. An assortment of fruits, sliced meat, and cheeses, not the type of thing the recruits were given to eat every day. And he knew exactly who was responsible for the food.

_Armin, what are you doing?_ He ignored where the thought might have gone as he placed a room temperature slice of cheese into his mouth, closing his eyes as it melted against his tongue. Wasting no time, he devoured the rest of the food on the tray as if it was the first meal he had eaten in weeks. The meat was juicy, the cheese soft, and the fruit sweeter than he had ever had before. Jean rarely ate like this, usually eating below his station with the rest of recruits, feeling like he didn't _deserve_ to eat the better rations.

Trying to ignore how utterly _refreshing_ the food had been, he made sure the tub was plugged and pulled the rope to activate the hot water. Stripping down to nothing but flesh and bone, he sat at the edge of the tub and poured the bath salt into the water. The familiar calming scents of vanilla and lavender reached his nose, but on the edge his noticed the distinct tang of citrus. He half-smiled to himself. _For energy. Dammit._

Without realizing it, his hand trailed over his toned abdomen, gentle rubbing over the skin he had dripped on the previous night, and found himself staring at his shaking hand before rubbing it over his face, exasperation and uncertainty driving him mad.

Sinking down into the water, Jean ran wet hands over his face and slicked his hair back, resting his head on the side of the tub. The water was calming, the light relaxing, and the scents soothing. He couldn't help but find himself drifting back into sleep, and considering the tub wasn't big enough for someone of his height to drown in, he let himself.

* * *

"It's been awhile, Jean."

The voice should have startled him, but there was something about this place, something so…tranquil. Jean sat with his knees pulled to his chin, arms resting on top of them, and without looking he knew that behind him he would find Marco's headstone.

"How've you been?" Jean felt his body tense at the question, only to feel an overwhelming sense of humor flowing into his back as he heard a familiar chuckle. "Sorry, sorry. I know. I heard everything."

Jean relaxed and rested his chin on his arms. "You heard, then?"

"Yeah." Jean couldn't see Marco, frankly he was afraid to turn and look for him. But he just had this sense of him mimicking his posture, leaning against his back in the familiar way they used to. "Every word."

Jean couldn't do much but nod, not knowing whether Marco would even notice the gesture.

"Hey, do you remember back when we were training? Connie swooped in to take your 'kill', and Sasha did the same to him? Stole it right from under both your noses. And you were so furious afterward, that you ended up just taking it out on Eren. Like usual. It started as your normal frustration, and then without any trigger turned into 'hey asshole! Come over here and I'll kick your ass!'" Marco's voice was mocking, but not hurtful. "You were always so jealous of Eren and his relationship with Mikasa."

Jean scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "You know, I always thought I was jealous because he had Mikasa. But to be honest? I think… I think I was more jealous that they were able to be so open with their affections, even if it was just sibling love. I already knew then that.. I loved you."

"I know."

Jean's eyes burned with tears as he felt the presence of a hand on his own. "Marco, I…"

"I know, Jean."

Jean found himself looking at an outstretched hand, taking it without question as he was pulled up to see the freckled face of his late lover. He clenched his jaw, hoping the tension would hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

"I'm scared, Marco. I.. I don't know what's happening. I find myself thinking about someone other than you and I—"

"Armin." Jean flinched as he heard the words in his Marco's voice. He looked up to see that face smiling softly at him. "Good man, Armin. Smart. And clearly taking care of you when you won't take care of yourself."

Jean felt a firm, gentle hand grasp his chin, lifting it to look into those deep brown eyes. He was surprised when he felt a soft kiss, lips barely touching his.

"Jean… I love you, Jean. I always have," Jean started to reciprocate, only to find lips covering his once again. "And I always will. And Jean, I _know_ you love me. Fuck, man, I never doubted that for a second. But Jean, you can't keep doing this to yourself._ This_, all of this, it's not your fault, Jean. _You did not kill me_. And, you know, it's okay to move on. "

Jean felt fingers intertwine with his own, instinctively squeezing them gently. "I always liked Armin. He's underestimated, but his heart is strong. And even you can't deny that he's been doing things for you, _special_ things that he wouldn't do for the other recruits. But he cares too much about you to say anything, not wanting to push you until you're ready to accept someone besides me."

"Marco, I.." Jean looked down at their hands between them, not sure what to say, and not wanting to let go of the hand he held in his.

"Jean. It's time to move on. You were always loyal to me, and you loved me the most. And that love, _your_ love, it was the greatest thing in my life. But… I think it's time you shared that with someone else, don't you? I need you to be happy, Jean. For me."

Jean felt Marco press his forehead to his own, breath hot on his face, fingers brushing through his hair. Shutting his eyes tightly, he felt tears rolled down his cheeks, and had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the only one with tear-streaked cheeks.

"Marco… you… because of you… I've always been the happiest of men…" Tilting his face up, he leaned into a kiss, pressing lips softly against Marco's.

"I know, Jean. Me, too… so please… be happy again?"

Jean nodded against Marco's face, and felt him place a kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry, Jean, you won't be alone." He felt one last gentle squeeze on his hand before the fingers slipped from his own. "Thank you…"

* * *

Jean's brown eyes snapped open, and he could feel hot tears streaming down the side of his face. Even so, he was undeniably, irrevocably _relieved_. Maybe even happy. He couldn't help but laugh through his tears, that sort of laughter that just happens when a burden is completely removed from your shoulders.

"Thanks, Marco…" The words were hushed, but that didn't matter. He knew the only person who needed to hear them, would.

Dipping his head under the cooling water, he scrubbed his face clean of the salty tears with pruney fingers. Jean pulled the drain from the bottom of the tub, pulling the rope once more to rinse any remnants of the salts from his hair and flesh, careful to shut it off before he climbed out. Scrubbing his hair as dry as he could with the fluffy towel, he wrapped it around his waist before rushing back to his room.

The sun was quickly setting, and he found himself becoming jittery. He pulled on a pair of his uniform pants and a loose tunic, the v-cut of the neck exposing his collarbone. He didn't even bother to put on shoes, despite the cold stone against his feet, before rushing back out of his room and toward the office that Armin and Hanji tended to occupy well into the night.

Forgetting to knock, he pushed the door open to find… only Hanji. She looked up at him above her glasses, an eyebrow tweaked in curiosity.

"Did you need something, Jean?" She spoke around the end of the pen that remained between her lips.

"Um… I was just looking for Armin." Saying it out loud, he felt like an idiot, and was quickly losing resolve.

"Squirt?" Only Hanji could get away with calling her apprentice such a name. "He retired to his room for the night. He just left if…"

Jean didn't even wait for her to finish her sentence before turning on his heels, calling out his thanks as he headed down the hall toward Armin's personal quarters. He felt his nerves make his hands shake, stomach turning over, and he suddenly wished he had taken a moment to actually use the mirror in the bathing room, hair still wet and probably mussed.

Clenching his hand into a fist, he rapped his knuckles against the door, and heard Armin within.

"Come in."

Jean pushed the door open, peaking around to see Armin sitting on his bed. The blond sat up, suddenly attentive as he saw who was visiting his room.

"Jean? Is everything okay? Are you feeling well?"

Jean smiled, shutting the door behind him. He couldn't help but feel flattered at the obvious care in Armin's voice. "Uh, yeah, no I'm fine. It's just, um, I wanted to tell you something." He watched as Armin scooted to the edge of his bed, and almost thought he looked _hopeful_. "It's just um, thanks, y'know, for the bath salts and tea and stuff."

Jean silently cursed his nerves. Even if he tried to hide it, Armin visibly sank when he heard the thank you, but smiled softly anyway.

"Not necessary, Jean. It's my j—"

Before Armin could finish that sentence, which would have easily crushed what resolve remained, Jean mashed his lips into Armin's. It was a clumsy kiss, nervous energy and uncertainty wrecking the gentleness Jean had intended.

"Thanks for being so great, Armin…" Jean didn't fully pull away, but stayed close, looking into those blue eyes, stomach knotting with fear over the confusion he saw there. "Shit, man, I'm sorry." Embarrassed, Jean quickly turned toward the door.

"Jean, wait!"

Jean felt a hand grasp his wrist, stumbled as he felt his body being jerked backward, and in one fluid motion he felt a hand on the side of his head, another at his waist, pulling him down into a kiss. Admittedly, it was odd at first, Armin being a couple inches shorter than he, whereas he had only ever kissed the slightly-taller-than-he-Marco.

He didn't have much time to think about something as trivial as height as his mind was overwhelmed with lips pressing against his, hands holding him close. Armin's lips were unbelievably soft as they worked against his own. Jean couldn't help but feel a sense of loss as cold air brushed his lips when they parted.

"Jean, I'm sorry, I.. I know I should've asked or something… but I've wanted to do that for so long…"

Armin's cheeks were pink, and Jean smiled as he realized he was _blushing_. Before he could start rambling out more breathless apologies, Jean covered his lips with his own, fingers reaching into that silky blond hair that he had always wanted to touch, holding almost desperately to the feelings coursing through his body everywhere that Armin touched.

Jean felt a tongue gently pressing against his lips, and found himself instinctively welcoming it into his mouth, his own tongue pressing against it, but not fighting. Despite everything, he found himself blushing with embarrassment when a small moan escaped him as Armin pulled their bodies together.

Armin stepped back, suddenly aware, and embarrassed, looking everywhere but Jean's eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away…"

"Armin, it's okay. I want it, too." Jean smiled as he pulled the blond into another kiss, softer and reassuring this time. He found himself pushing Armin toward his bed, collapsing on top of him when they hit the edge of the mattress.

Neither of them could help but burst into laughter, mostly nervous energy, laughing in sync until their voices both died down, and Jean couldn't help staring into those blue eyes that seemed to be smiling up at him. He felt a hand brush through his hair, pulling him down into another kiss.

Armin was being nothing if not gentle, tentative, and as much as Jean was enjoying it, he couldn't ignore that the bulge in his pants was starting to grow uncomfortable. He also assumed by the similar bulge pressing into his hip, that Armin was growing equally uncomfortable. He also knew Armin wouldn't push him into anything.

Jean gently slid a hand up under Armin's tunic, not surprised to find a taut, if not sculpted, body underneath. He smiled into the kiss as Armin squirmed under his touch, in a good way. Kissing gently along his jaw, he rested his head in the mass of blond hair, mumbling into it.

"Don't make me ask for it, Armin."

Jean could've laughed at what had to have been a visible tensing of the body below him. Part of Jean wanted to just devour the genius, but in this moment, no matter how desperate he was, everything about this moment just screamed _gentleness_.

Jean felt a hand on his arm, gently pushing, leading him to lay on his back, and he couldn't help but quiver as he watch Armin climb over him, pressing a knee gently between his legs and leaning down to cover his lips once more, hair curtaining their faces.

Hands still a little shaky, perhaps more from anticipation than nervousness at this point, Jean slid the rough-spun tunic over Armin's head, tossing it to the ground below them. He couldn't help but admire the body before him. Ivory skin, with few scars, lean but defined. He didn't know what he had been expecting under that shirt, all he knew was that he wanted his hands all over it.

Reaching behind his head, Jean pulled off his own shirt, revealing a more sculpted, if still lean, body, with many more scars. He noticed Armin blush, and by the way he seemed to curl into himself, he realized it was insecurity. Without pause, he ran his hands gently over Armin's torso, leaning up and kissing along his ribs, the muscle's twitching each time his lips touched them.

Jean pulled Armin close, arms wrapped around his torso, head on his chest and taking in his scent, just holding him. "You're so beautiful, Armin."

He felt Armin relax in his arms, a hand reaching down to tilt his chin up pulling him into another kiss, much more sure as Jean lay back, pulling Armin with him. He could feel Armin rustling in his nightstand for something, setting whatever it was out when he found it. Jean knew without looking what it was, and though he was curious why Armin had it, he was just thankful that he did.

Deft fingers undid his pants, and Jean felt Armin grabbing the hem, lifting his hips so that he could slide them off. Jean suddenly felt vulnerable as Armin stared down at him, in all his naked glory. Armin's cheeks were flushed, but Jean couldn't help but noticed him licking his lips as he looked over his naked body.

Something seemed to shift in Armin, he was still as gentle as ever but his reservations seemed to be replaced by a sort of hunger. He placed soft kisses down Jean's torso, tracing his pelvic bones with soft lips, sending shivers through his body.

Expecting the obvious next step, he found himself surprised to feel a cheek pressed against his inner thigh, lips gently kissing the tender flesh, working their way to their destination. Jean closed his eyes as he felt a warm, wet tongue run up his rather hard shaft, soft, pink lips wrapping around the head, tongue working as Armin sucked him into his mouth.

Jean gasped, reaching down instinctively to bury a hand in those golden locks, squirming as they tickled his abdomen, and doing his best not to buck into the warm mouth that was making him feel so very good. With a pop Armin released him, sitting up to look him over, pleased with himself.

He watched as Armin poured a clear, thick liquid into his palm, watching as it ran through his fingers. Jean shut his eyes as Armin pressed a finger against his twitching entrance, without pushing into it. Jean was preparing for a twinge of pain, but was surprised to let out a gasp of pleasure as he felt that warm mouth wrap around his cock, the pleasure outweighing the pain of entry.

Armin was careful, slow, waiting until Jean's body told him it was ready and willing to accept a second finger. Skillfully he slid those long, lean fingers as far into Jean as he could, exploring carefully until Jean felt his hips buck, and he was glad that Armin had stopped using his mouth when he added the second finger.

Jean writhed as Armin scissored his fingers, making sure to massage the spot that made him whimper when it was touched.

"Armin, I.. I'm ready…" Jean felt fingers still inside him before slowly sliding out, and though his body was screaming for Armin, he couldn't help but be nervous. It _had_ been two years, after all.

Jean took a deep breath as he felt Armin opening him up with one hand, and felt something much larger than fingers nudge against his entrance. He willed himself to relax, and was utterly surprised by Armin's control and he ever-so-slowly pressed his hips down until he was fully inside. He felt a hand running down the outside of his thigh, felt labored breaths puffing out against his neck.

"Oh god, Jean…"

He couldn't help but shiver as Armin practically moaned his name. Pushing back that long, blond hair, Jean initiated another kiss, tilting his hips as he did to encourage the gentle genius to _move_. Taking the hint, Armin pulled back before gently thrusting back into him. Jean couldn't help but break the kiss to let out a moan as Armin angled himself to brush against his sweet spot with each thrust.

Jean covered his mouth, trying to muffle his moans, only to find Armin sliding his fingers into his hand, holding it down beside him.

"Please, Jean, let me hear your voice." Jean couldn't even fathom how _hot_ Armin was making him, and knew it wasn't even intentional. Armin kept his face in the crook of Jean's neck, sucking roughly along the nape, moaning out against the skin as he pressed himself into the welcoming entrance.

Jean knew he was close, and when he felt those deft fingers wrap around his dripping cock, his breath hitched and his hips bucked against Armin's. In rhythm with his thrusts, the blond began pumping the shaft, and it was all Jean could do to keep from crying out in pleasure.

"Oh god, Armin, I'm~ " He didn't finish his warning as he felt himself clench around Armin, moaning out unintelligible words, but certain the blond's name escaped his lips more than once, as he felt himself spurt onto his own chest.

He could feel himself tight around Armin, who was still thrusting, careful not to hurt him. He pulled the blond into a hard kiss, forcing his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, and he could feel Armin's speed increase, moaning against Jean's lips as a jolt tensed his body, an undeniable heat filling Jean in more ways than one.

Armin pulled out of Jean, pressing their foreheads together, both panting with exertion.

"Wow, Jean… just… wow…" Armin couldn't stop smiling, and Jean realized he had the same stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Yeah."

Armin rolled over, lazily lying next to Jean, who casually snuggled into the crook of his arm. Those same long fingers ran through his almost-dry hair, and they lay in silence as their hearts and breathing slowed.

"Jean… you know.. I've loved you for a long time."

Jean looked up at Armin, he could see that he was afraid to say those words, but he meant them regardless. Jean only smiled, and leaned down to kiss him. He didn't quite feel right _saying_ 'I love you, too', but he was sure as hell going to make sure he showed him, even if it meant being unable to walk the next day.

* * *

a/n: i had originally planned to only make this 3 chapters but i'm considering adding a 4th, mostly cause i want to do some smutty smut with these two : 3


	4. LIPS ARE FOR BITING HERE

Jean groaned inwardly as he opened his eyes, groggy, to find a room bright with sunlight. Confused, his eyes, blurry and watering from the unexpected brightness, scanned the room as he tried to place where he was and why it was so damn bright. It didn't take long for his eyes to land upon golden locks, shimmering in the sunlight.

He smiled uncontrollably as he looked over his current bedmate, blond hair framing a relaxed, angelic face, breath almost inaudibly puffing out in the early-morning silence. Jean's smile turned mischievous as he looked over the half-covered torso, stretching out his legs to inconspicuously pull the covers lower, stopping as the first glimpse of blonde peeked out from under the sheet.

Jean couldn't help but bite his lower lip as he took in that slim body, lean muscles taut, hip bones jutting out and forming a shallow 'v' that led to his newly discovered favorite part of Armin. Supporting himself on his elbow, he brushed the blond strands out of Armin's face, careful not to disturb his sleep just yet.

Twisting his body closer to Armin, ignoring the small twinge of overworked muscles in his abdomen, Jean place a small, gentle kiss on that sleeping face, lips barely brushing his cheek. As expected, it didn't disturb the well-exhausted medic, who had likely trained himself to get restful sleep while he was able. Gently pushing the hair up and away from Armin's ears and neck, Jean went to work.

Suppressing a devious chuckle, he leaned in, tracing his tongue along the edge of Armin's earlobe, sucking the flesh into his mouth and nibbling it between his teeth. The blond let out a small, strangled moan, but didn't stir, and Jean couldn't help but smirk at his tenacity.

Burying his face in the crook of Armin's neck, taking in his scent, Jean sank his teeth into the soft flesh of the nape, sucking it between his teeth knowing full well that it would leave a red mark. _Mine._ He thought to himself as he worked his tongue over the flesh, at the same time pinching a hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

_That_ elicited a moan from soft, pink lips; a moan that was unmistakably his name. Jean grinned, releasing the flesh from his teeth, moving his lips up to Armin's ear.

"Good morning, Armin." He punctuated the name with a squeeze to the nipple between his fingers, feeling the lithe body arch into his grasp.

"Mn… good morning to you, too." Armin smiled as he turned those blue eyes to meet Jean's, reaching up and brushing back strands of hair that were just long enough to fall into his eyes. "Somehow I thought you'd have had enough after so many times last night."

Jean smirked, hand traveling down to rest on one of those delicious hipbones. "I don't think I could ever have enough of you."

Armin arched an eyebrow as he slid his hand behind Jean's head, pulling him into a kiss. Jean felt the body in his hand turning, shifting closer to him, felt a leg sliding between his own and hot flesh pressing against his own. Sliding a hand between their bodies, Jean wrapped his fingers around both of their hardened cocks, rocking his hips as he rubbed them together, a moan not belonging to him vibrating against his lips.

A gentle hand snaked its way over his hips, reaching around him and pressing a long, slim finger into his entrance, pulling a moan from his own throat this time. Breaking the kiss, he couldn't help but breathe heavily against Armin.

"Oh god, Armin, you can't tease me like that…" He felt Armin's finger still within him, and noticed that same hunger from the previous night fill those blue eyes.

Before he had time to process the movement he felt his chest being pressed into the mattress, a hand holding his shoulder down. He had forgotten just how agile Armin was, a thought quickly lost in a whimper as he felt a tongue running up the length of his spine as a hand lifted his hips from the mattress. Jean felt those long fingers that he just loved greedily grabbing his cheeks, spreading them, and he just _knew_ he was being examined.

Jean closed his eyes, breath hot against the sheets, not sure if he was embarrassed or turned on by the gesture. Even so, he couldn't help but hear the click of a cap being flicked open and he nearly shivered with anticipation. However, he couldn't suppress a small shudder as he felt Armin's cock nudge against his entrance.

"Sorry, is it cold?" Armin cringed, in his haste he hadn't bothered to let the lube warm first.

"Just hurry." Jean snapped, dignity refusing to let him beg.

Armin growled in his throat as he pulled him closer by grasping a hip, his other hand pressing his cock into Jean's greedy hole, pushing a moan from the body that was sucking him in.

"Shit, Jean…"

Jean could feel a body pressing into his own as Armin leaned over him, kissing between his shoulder blades as he pushed all the way into him, rubbing over his sweet spot agonizingly slowly.

"Oh god, Armin, don't stop.. there!" He panted out as Armin thrust into him, using his hips as handles, pulling him closer; not that he needed to, as Jean found himself pressing back to meet Armin's thrusts, mangled moans muffled into the pillows he buried his face in, fingers digging into the down-feathers.

Ignoring the pillowcase moistening between his lips, Jean's breath hitched as he felt now-familiar fingers wrap around his dripping cock, stroking possessively as the thrusting started to lose rhythm.

Feeling himself clench around Armin, Jean curled his fingers around the pillow, loud enough that even the down couldn't muffle his moans as he came onto the sheet below him.

"Fuck, Jean, you get so tight –" The thought was cut off as Armin thrust into him, pressing deep as his body tensed and his pulsing cock pushed hot cum into Jean, a strangled growl complimenting his possessive fingers holding his lover close.

Jean's body suddenly grew heavy as Armin rest against his back, panting, and placing small kisses up his spine. He suppressed a shudder as he felt Armin slide out of him, shifting to sit next to him, a somehow very proud smile plastered on his face.

Jean stretched his legs, sprawling out on his stomach and hiding his face in the pillow, remembering quite well that it wasn't a good idea to sit up when you were _full,_ so-to-speak.

"Um, Armin…" His words were muffled by the pillow. "Being the medic, you have your own bathing quarters right?" His awkward tone conveyed what he didn't say as he looked up at Armin with embarrassed eyes. The blond smiled and tilted his head toward the doorway in the back of his room.

Jean managed to almost slither from the bed, shuffling over to the doorway as he could feel cum start dripping down his inner thighs, stopping as he heard Armin speak.

"You know, I could always help you."

Jean quirked a brow at him. "Somehow I don't think you'd help me get any cleaner."

Disappearing into the bathroom, Jean didn't even have time to fill the tub before Armin stole in after him, making sure to help Jean clean himself _thoroughly_.

* * *

Jean emerged from the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips, another scrubbing his hair dry. He smiled softly to himself as he noticed Armin passed out on the bed, lying on the pillow _he_ had been panting into. He almost felt bad for waking him, but could hear people already starting to move around in the hallway on the other side of the door.

"Hey, Armin!" His voice was hushed, but he made sure to put some sort of urgency into it. He couldn't help but smile, reveling in gaze that ever-so-_slowly_ traveled up his naked torso before meeting his eyes. "This is kinda embarrassing, but can I borrow a change of clothes?"Jean scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Yeah, of course." Armin's words were tired, but he gestured to the small dresser that each recruit was given for clothes, the surface covered in both medical and fictional books.

Jean pulled out a pair of military issued trousers and a plain beige shirt, not even bothering with underwear as he didn't particularly want to cut off circulation to _that_ part of his body. He pulled the clothes on, finding them fitted but not suffocating. The long sleeves and pant legs were both a few inches too short, and Armin couldn't help but erupt into laughter at the spectacle.

"Shut up!" Jean fought laughter as he threw a damp towel at the blond. Shaking his head, he rolled the sleeves up to his forearms to help hide the fact that it wasn't his shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled on a pair of boots, glad that Armin had an extra pair and that they happened to wear the same size.

As he tugged the leather boot on, he felt knees shifting next to his hips, arms snaking around his waist, and lips kissing the back of his neck. Jean had to stifle a shudder at those gentle lips, stopping the hands as they intended to travel lower.

"You should wear my clothes more often." He scraped his teeth along Jean's bare neck. "It's really sexy."

"If you keep this up I'm not gonna be in your clothes much longer, and I don't know about you but _I_ need some fuel." Jean could almost feel Armin grinning at him as he pulled away, walking toward the door. "You coming?"

He didn't wait to see if the blond rushed after him, but could hear the near silent patter of boots behind him and new it was Armin. They entered the mess hall, grabbed a couple platters of fruit and meat, and sat at their normal table in the corner of the room, brightly lit from the near-white early morning sun.

It wasn't long before the usual crowd rushed in, Sasha and Connie noisy as usual, Ymir laughing as she wrapped an arm around little Christa's shoulder, and Mikasa silently following behind. Mikasa's solitude meant Eren would be late for breakfast, as he usually was following nights that he spent in the Captain's quarters.

The group clamored as they gathered around the table, each picking at the platters before them. Conversation naturally died down as the all-important task of stuffing their faces took precedence over socializing. Armin and Jean both inadvertently were avoiding meeting the gaze of the others, in turn drawing attention to themselves by trying to remain inconspicuous.

Jean's back was tense as he picked at a cluster of grapes, not looking up though he could feel eyes boring into his flesh. And he knew exactly whose they were. _Mikasa_. He and Armin both flinched as she slammed her palm on the table, drawing all of their attention to her.

She glowered out from under black bangs, long hair drifting onto the table as she leaned forward. She held a butter knife in her hand, pointing it at Jean's face as she spoke, and no one doubted her ability to turn it into a weapon.

"It goes without saying that, _that_ is my brother," She jabbed her knife in Armin's direction before returning it to Jean's attention. "It also goes without saying that I will protect my family, and _destroy _anything or any_one_ that hurts my family—"

Her promise, for Mikasa did not make idle threats concerning her brothers, was cut short as Connie and Sasha fought back snorting-laughs poorly.

"From what I heard, Armin was the one doing the _destroying_." Connie, with the cheesiest grin plastered on his face.

Realization dawned on the faces of everyone else at the table, shortly before they erupted into laughter, and Jean simply held his head in his hands as he remembered that Connie and Sasha shared the room adjacent to Armin's. The hand squeezing his knee reassuringly did little to ease his embarrassment.

"Yo, Eren!" Connie held up his hand, the laughter dying down, as the German trudged into the room.

Dropping heavily onto the bench next to Armin, Caribbean eyes exhausted, but satisfied, he shoved a rolled up slice of turkey into his mouth, chewing slowly and relishing the sweet taste of the honey-mesquite juices on his tongue.

He turned a dazed expression toward the blond, looking up at the locks which were normally neat and pulled out of his face. This morning, however, he had forgotten to pull the strands into their normal hair-tie, for that matter he hadn't even brushed it, his hair disheveled and unkempt.

Eren smirked. "Geez, looks like I'm not the only one who had a busy night. You didn't even bother to fix your hair." Reaching up, he ran his fingers over Armin's hair, flattening it to look a little more presentable, words inciting more giggles from their friends.

Though it was more than likely the comment that made Armin's cheeks flush red, Jean could only see him blushing as _Eren_ ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling as he laid his black mass of hair on his best friend's shoulder.

Jean almost inhaled the remainder of his glass of water, in hopes of calming his stomach which was quickly becoming sour as his mind blocked out everything except the fact that Eren was touching Armin. _His _Armin. He could feel a burning in his core as he watched pink spread over Armin's cheeks, an embarrassed smiling spreading over those pink lips, as a result of Eren touching him.

Standing abruptly, Jean grabbed Armin's wrist, tugging at him. "Armin, come with me." It wasn't a question and he practically dragged Armin out of the room before he, or anyone else for that matter, could even respond.

"J-Jean! What's the meaning of—"

Armin's protests were cut off as Jean used his momentum to fling him onto the bed. The force made him bounce in a way that would have normally made Jean laugh, had it not been for the irrefutable jealousy that was not settling well in his stomach.

He slammed the door shut behind him, sliding the lock into place, and before Armin could begin another protest, he was on him. His lips covered Armin's hungrily, tongue forcing its way into the welcoming mouth, while his hands practically _devoured_ the body underneath him. Armin moaned and arched his body into Jean's as a knee pressed to his groin, encouraging the now-growing bulge.

Gasping, he forced Jean back, breaking the kiss. "Shit, Jean, what's the deal?" Armin would be lying if he said he wasn't a little regretful over stopping him.

Jean's almost golden eyes flicked back and forth between Armin's, brows furrowed as he _really_ didn't want to say what was bothering him. Dropping his head onto his chest, Jean managed to keep from letting out an undignified whine before he mumbled out a response.

"He touched you…"

"Who? _Eren_?" His disbelief was evident.

Jean chewed the inside of his lip. "Yeah. He touched you…. And you blushed.. and I.. look I just don't like it when other people touch you and I know it's stupid but I can't help it, okay?" His words ran into each other as he rushed to get the uncomfortable, embarrassing thoughts out. And then he felt the room quiet, which was _disquieting_, as Armin hesitated.

_Shit. I fucked up._

Armin placed a hand on either side of his face, pulling Jean's forehead to his lips, kissing gently before moving lower to kiss his cheek, and leaning close to his ear. His movements were slow, deliberate, and frankly, that frightened Jean. Until he spoke.

"I want you to fuck me, Jean."

Jean's body visibly tensed as he jerked his head up, eyes meeting Armin's, those blue orbs unflinching. His mouth worked, trying to form _any_ kind of response at such an unexpected request, yet no sound came from his lips.

Voice unwavering, almost demanding, Armin repeated his request. "I _want_ you to _fuck_ me, Jean." A pause. "Now."

Jean's body processed that far quicker than his mind could grasp the words, and he found himself attacking Armin again, devouring his lips. He felt fingers running up the undercut of his hair as legs wrapped around his waist, Armin grinding their groins together, moaning into the kiss.

Jean was left breathless, desperate almost, panting into the kiss as he found Armin _attacking him_. Like an _animal_. Armin was just _exuding_ a desperate _hunger_ as he clung to Jean, grinding roughly against him, the friction making it difficult to think of anything else.

Forcing himself to take a second to _think_, Jean unlatched Armin's legs from his waist, desperate hands fumbling to unfasten his pants, grumbling when he encountered boots. Grabbing around the heel he yanked the boots off as Armin pulled his shirt over his head, leaving himself naked and vulnerable.

All indication of the previous night's insecurities had vanished as Armin crawled toward the edge of the bed on all fours, blond hair falling over his shoulders. Running his hands up Jean's thighs, he hooked his hands under the hem of the tight shirt, sliding it up and letting the other man take over and remove it while he instead latched onto one of the hardened nipples, pinching it between his teeth.

Jean moaned, almost whimpered, as Armin's tongue worked over his nipple, fighting to control himself as he felt hands undoing his pants and sliding them down just far enough to allow his head to peek out.

Jean couldn't help almost pouting as Armin neglected the nipple he was previously attached to, watching as the blond head made its way lower on his body. He couldn't help gasping, and it took all of his control not to buck his hips when Armin ran his tongue over the tip of his cock, licking up the bead of precum that had gathered.

Armin kept those blue eyes looking up at him as he slid his pants down the rest of the way, unsure when Jean had actually taken off his boots. Jean grabbed Armin's chin and kissed him hard on the mouth before climbing onto the bed and finding himself pushed back into the mattress.

More surprising, he watched as Armin straddled his chest, facing away from him and dipping down to support himself on his elbows. He practically wiggled his ass in Jean's face before nodding toward the bottle of lube that was still sitting out on the nightstand. He took the hint and poured the liquid into his palm, trying not to spill it as he felt hot, wet lips wrap around his cock, tongue twirling as Armin sucked hard.

_How the fuck'd he get so good at that?_

Jean mindlessly massaged the lube over his fingers as he half-closed his eyes in pleasure, only remembering what he was supposed to do when he received another ass-shake of a reminder. He ran his hands up the insides of Armin's thighs, which he found to be almost hairless, fingers working over his balls before gently stroking his shaft. Armin let out a moan, lips vibrating around Jean's cock.

"Oh wow, Armin, that… when you moan with me in your mouth… wow…"

Armin arched his back, causing his hips to naturally open, hinting Jean what he wanted. And Jean gladly obliged. With fingers still thoroughly lubed, he carefully pressed one into the entrance, watching all too closely as it swallowed his finger.

"My god, Armin, I just want to devour you." Making good on his promise, he pulled Armin closer, forcing him up onto all fours, Jean sank his teeth into one of Armin's cheeks, reveling in the small yelp that turned into a moan as he pushed a second finger inside.

Jean could feel his cock throbbing as he watched his fingers enter Armin's body, watched as the blond pushed back against him, grinding on his own against his fingers, making it vocally obvious when his sweet spot was being stimulated.

"Dammit, Jean, will you just fuck me already?" Armin growled.

Jean couldn't help but be stunned. Everyone always joked about Armin being the "little lamb," but if they could see him now they'd know just how wrong they were. He wasn't a lamb. _He's a fucking wolf._

"No." Jean smirked, pleased with himself.

"…No?"

"No. Do it yourself." He could see the borderline confusion, Armin's eyes trying to figure out his exact meaning. "I want you. To climb on top of me. Spread yourself open. Take my hard cock. And shove it up your ass."

Armin smiled as Jean clarified his meaning, and the blonde's face was easy to read. _Challenge accepted._

Turning to face Jean, Armin grabbed the nearby lube, holding it high in the air and watching it drizzle in lucrative amounts, a strange fascination with the twitching member apparent on his face. Armin leaned in to kiss him, biting his lower lip as he rocked his hips, Jean's dick rubbing between his cheeks and eliciting a moan.

Straddling his hips, Armin reached down and opened himself up, strategically placed fingers spreading his entrance. Steadying the lubricated cock, he lowered himself over the top, not breaking eye contact as he moved his hands to Jean's chest for support as he lowered himself until he felt hipbones pressing into his thighs.

Jean bit his lip as he felt himself being swallowed by Armin, felt his insides pulse around him.

"F-fuck Armin... You're so tight…"

Armin grinned, looking up through his bangs. "Well yeah, this is the first time I've ever had someone _inside me_."

Jean was touched by the meaning behind those words, but didn't have time to think about it before Armin lifted his hips, clenching as he pulled up. Jean almost felt dizzy at how good he felt, at how tight Armin was around him, and he was just hoping he wouldn't come too soon and leave Armin hangin', so-to-speak.

Armin arched his back, tilting his head back as he pushed Jean back into him, a moan pushing from his lips. Jean couldn't help but touch his lover; he wanted to touch him everywhere, hands greedily swimming over his thighs, up his chest. Pushing himself up, Jean moaned as Armin wrapped his legs around his waist, bouncing in his lap, riding his dick until he was almost high with the pleasure that was being sent through his body with each thrust.

Jean, making good on his promise to devour him, couldn't help but bite and suck on Armin's chest, pulling further moans from the blond and leaving marks that this wolf had claimed his territory. He could feel himself nearing climax, honestly he was surprised he had held out as long as he had.

Wrapping his arms around Armin's back, he laid him down, sitting back and looking over the beautiful specimen below him. Nibbling the inner thigh of the leg that was now on his shoulder, Jean held on to the opposite hip, _slowly_ pulling out before thrusting back in, watching that lean body, almost glowing with sweat, writhe underneath him.

Armin's moans and whines were _intoxicating_.

"Armin, touch yourself…" Jean was surprised he managed intelligible words around his panting, but couldn't help but be pleased when Armin followed orders without hesitation.

Those long fingers wrapped around his pulsing, dripping cock, and vehemently began pumping. The effect was almost instantaneous, being so close to the edge already, and Armin clenched around Jean as loud moans pushed their way from his lips, reminding him just how loud Armin could be.

"Oh, god, Jean! There! Fuck, don't stop!"Armin called Jean's name, most of his other words being unintelligible moans, as hot cum splurted onto his chest, entrance pulsing around the swollen cock that was still inside him.

Grabbing a handful of Armin's hair, Jean pulled him into a hard kiss, growling as he thrust hard and fast into him, feeling a distinct, hot wetness as he came inside him, his last few thrusts pushing the liquid out around his softening dick.

Jean pulled out of Armin, collapsing next to him and pulling him into another kiss, gentler this time. They simply stared at each other in the silence that followed, ignoring the not-so-discreet whispers outside their door, taking in the scent of the each other and of sex.

The kiss marks covering Jean's chest, as well as the undeniable liquid dripping from Armin, left a clear message to all, but most importantly to each other.

_You. Are. Mine._


End file.
